


Only love makes a difference

by Szeszely



Category: Football RPF, Sports RPF
Genre: Borussia Dortmund, Established Relationship, Flashbacks, Fluff, Happy, I don't know where I get these ideas, I'm Sorry, M/M, Mario is a power bottom, Silly
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-04-26
Updated: 2015-04-26
Packaged: 2018-03-25 20:53:42
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,100
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3824728
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Szeszely/pseuds/Szeszely
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Marco is all for symmetry and Mario is all against. Lucky for them that opposites attract.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Only love makes a difference

**Author's Note:**

> This is a silly idea I got when I tried to learn something and after five minutes I read a Götzeus fic instead.
> 
> I don't know how it went after all, but there are details that add to the concept, for example Marco intends to wake up at 7:07. :D
> 
> In this fiction, the boys are both playing for Dortmund and live happily together.

 

 

Their alarm goes off at seven, but Mario doesn’t get up immediately. After two minutes of chasing the memories of his dream in vain, he gathers himself and sits up, smiling at the lump under the duvet on the other side of the mattress. He prods at it and gets a whine and a _‘just five more minutes’_ in response. Letting out a snort, he leans over, struggles for a bit until he finds what he’s looking for, then pulls the blanket up just enough to reveal the sleep-creased face of Marco at his greatest. Mario places a smack on one of his cheeks before sliding off the sheets and taking a short trip to the bathroom.

He’s standing by the kitchen counter and preparing their breakfast when a pair of strong arms slides around his naked torso and there’re lips pressed to the back of his neck.

“’Morning, sleepyhead.”

Marco hums into his skin, isn’t quite awake yet, and Mario feels him smile.

“Sunny.”

“Yeah?”

“Go, get dressed, I will finish this.”

This isn’t a usual offer and Mario accepts it without thinking, realisation hits him only in the bedroom. Marco is shit in the kitchen, because he always aims for perfection and Mario doesn’t want to see a dozen toasts in the trashbin again only because the amount of butter wasn’t the same on their left and right half.

By the time Mario has come back, the table is laid with identical cutlery and mugs, facing each other. Marco is busy working on something next to the stove and Mario uses the opportunity to replace the settings.

“Mario, I’ve worked a lot with that, everything had its precise place.” Marco huffs when he turns and spots Mario putting his mug next to Marco’s.

Mario shrugs, dropping down into his chair cheerfully. “I want to sit next to you.”

Just for good measure, he flashes his Colgate smile that he knows Marco can’t say no to. And as always, Marco’s expression softens and he walks over there, puts a plate in front of Mario.

“Bon appetite.” He says happily and Mario has to control himself when he sees that they have the exact same food in the exact same arrangement on their plates. He shakes his head and stares, then reaches over and steals two small tomatoes from Marco.

“Hey, you have yours!”

Mario shrugs again and keeps eating from Marco’s plate. He doesn’t want everything to be even between them, or be a mirror picture or whatever.

Because the thing is: Marco is all for symmetry and Mario is all against. But lucky for them, opposites attract.

 After breakfast Mario gets the bathroom for himself and spends there circa thirty undisturbed minutes alone with his hair.

“Mario.” Marco’s voice sounds accusing and Mario knows all too well why, but pretends to be innocent.

“Hm?”

“I can’t find a single pair amongst my earrings.” Marco appears at the bathroom door, still half naked and totally oblivious to Mario’s hungry look. “Why do I have the feeling that you have something to do with that?”

Mario smirks and adjusts his hair in the mirror, slicks it to the side.  
“Because you always try to blame me. Maybe you just lost them.”

He ignores Marco’s raised eyebrows and picks up his comb again. “A half of every pair?”

“Exactly.”

Marco shakes his head, but gives up, putting a black stud into his right ear and a shiny one into his left.

“I hope you’re satisfied.” He grumbles and Mario goes over to him with a grin.

He starts combing Marco’s perfectly symmetric locks so that they would look similar to his own one-sided hairstyle.  
“I am.”

 

* * *

 

 

It has always been like this, from the very beginning. They met in the U-21 national team for the first time and it hit them as lightning that they just clicked. It was friendship on the first day, casual attraction on the third and they had their first kiss by the end of the week.

Well, it had nothing to do with Marco though. If things depended on him they would still be at the stolen locker room glances stage. No, it was Mario who set everything into motion, and he did it quicker than Marco could think about consequences or protests or anything at all.

_“I like your smile.” Mario said when they were alone in their hotel room and he didn’t even wait for the night, so Marco’s uneasiness was clear from a mile away._

Marco hates his own smile, because it’s… ugly, he thinks. It is crooked and lopsided and shows his stupid dimples around the left corner of his mouth. But he can’t get rid of it, it’s an old habit from his childhood when he was too shy to flash megawatt grins here and there. Not like Mario, god, the little shit has a perfect face, all gleaming eyes and white teeth, the fucking sunshine itself.

_“Your goal was beautiful at the training match.” Marco took a quick glance around for some escape route before he melted from the heat, but there was none and Mario slowly but steadily inched closer._

_“Which one?” He asked to keep up the pretention of a normal conversation, though it was a pathetic attempt with Mario’s hand on his thigh._

_“The first.” Mario purred and took hold of Marco’s chin. “The first is always the best.”_

_Marco had the time to blink, but not much more, before Mario leaned in and, and… Yeah, it happened like that. It was soft and tentative and by the time they parted they both knew there would be more to come._

Mario gets his way no matter what, Marco has learnt that quickly.

 

* * *

 

 

To be honest, there is one thing that Mario wishes to be more symmetric between the two of them. Any other day he would refuse to let it ruin his mood, but now, in this very moment, he feels helpless in his fight against the thought that he is… That he is chubby, maybe more than that, whilst Marco is slim and well-built and all-around stunning. Well, the main problem is not with Marco’s body, but with the fact that Lewy, Auba, Mats and so many of the others have similar good looks. And Mario is jealous. Incredibly, utterly jealous.

“…you’re an asshole, Marco.” Mats exclaims, laughing, and Lewy grins, punches Marco’s abs playfully.

Mario isn’t privy to what they are talking about, but he surely wouldn’t find it so funny. He’s sitting on the bench in front of his locker and narrows his eyes, shooting his most powerful glares in the direction of the group of idiots, including his boyfriend. But nobody pays attention to poor, little Mario and he feels close to exploding.

“Hey, Mario, wanna see a pic I took in the women’s bathroom?”

Kevin says, his words slurred from the amount of alcohol he must have poured down his throat, and Mario decides it’s time for leaving. They have just won the _Revierderby_ , they won against those moron Schalkers, but Mario stomps over to their team bus without giving a single autograph or posing for a picture and slides in the last row of seats, purposefully not sitting in his usual place.

After a while Mario’s anger turns into a self-pitying party and he contemplates about going back just as the others arrive. It’s Nuri who climbs up the steps first and he walks in Mario’s direction with a drunken smile, but the threatening look makes him back off and he knows better than to sit next to surly Mario.

It’s no surprise that his teammates try to sit as far from him as possible, but when Marco plops down next to Robert fucking Lewandowski, Mario is sure he looks like a volcano. He settles for staring out of the window and burning down the houses along their way with his thoughts. He gets carried away and doesn’t even notice when somebody occupies the seat next to him.

“Are you mad at me?”

Mario growls and turns to look at Marco. “No.”

The corner of Marco’s lips trembles as he obviously tries to hold back a smile and his arm snakes around Mario’s shoulders.

“Come on, Sunny. We have just won!”

When Mario doesn’t drop the long face, Marco sighs. “Okay, what have I done to deserve this?”

The guys in the front half of the bus start yelling for Marco to go back there and sing with them, but he just waves and squeezes Mario’s shoulder.

“Sunny?”

“I hate when you do that with Lewy.”

“Do what?”

“You’re staring into his eyes for minutes and think nobody notices, and you let him touch you, hug you, sometimes even kiss your neck. He has a crush on you, I’m sure about that.”

Marco breaks into a belly laugh, pulls Mario closer and peppers kisses all over his face.

“Sunny baby, are you honestly jealous?”

Mario pushes him away with a scowl. “I have every right to be. You were glued to his side in the last fucking hour.”

“We’ve been celebrating.”

They spend a few minutes in silence before Marco takes his hand and whispers into his ear.

“Do you want to know why I’ve been staring at him?”

“So you admit it?”

“Mario!”

“Okay, okay. Why?”

“Because of his eyes, haven’t you seen them? The left one is always half-closed, geez…” A shiver runs through Marco’s body and Mario gets it, Jesus, it’s that symmetry obsession again.

“You idiot.” He says fondly and smiles for the first time since they left the pitch. “I’m sorry for reading too much into it.”

“’S okay.” Marco kisses both of his cheeks and pulls out his phone. He puts his earbuds in and starts playing with the most boring game on earth, the ‘Spot the difference’.

Mario rolls his eyes and occupies himself with his Marco-selfie collection for a while, but he gets bored easily and Marco is still staring at the two totally identical pictures of the Eiffel Tower. When the others on the bus erupts in shouts, because Kevin lost in a bet again and he has to sing the Stern des Südens, Mario pulls an earbud out of Marco’s ear and puts it into his own.

Once the annoying sounds are all blocked out and Mario feels pleasantly asymmetric with only one earbud in and his head on Marco’s shoulder, he falls asleep.

 

* * *

 

 

Marco’s adoration towards symmetry started in high school, and he used it mostly as an excuse. When he got a six for his Math test, he said it happened because he refused to write anything, but 8 and 0. The first time he asked out a girl for a date - mainly in fear of getting outed - he said he had to buy two cinema tickets to make the reservation symmetric. When he tried to have sex for the first and only time with his girlfriend, he said her unequal tits were the reason why he couldn’t get it up. He didn’t have a long relationship until Mario, needless to say.

But in 2009, he stepped into that hotel lobby where the team gathered around and amongst the bunch of unknown, nervous people he spotted a calm guy with evenly plucked eyebrows and rucksack thrown over both of his shoulders, and that vivid piece of symmetry turned into his life aim.

The first time they made love was the first of Marco’s entire life and he didn’t even expect it.

_“I got a goal today.” Mario said after locking the door and pushing Marco onto the bed. He crawled on top of him and straddled his hips, tongue poking out between his teeth as he smiled coyly._

_“It was a nice kick.” That was all that Marco managed and Mario pinched one of his nipples as he laughed._

_“Thanks.” He said and leaned closer, his breath ghosted over Marco’s lips when he spoke. “I think it’s your turn to score.”_

_Marco gulped and didn’t dare telling Mario that he never ever done that. Mario stroked his right cheek, then tore his shirt off, slid his hands under Marco’s._

_“Sunny…”_

_“Shh…” Mario kissed the corner of his mouth, pulled off and threw away Marco’s shirt. “I love this tattoo, it’s perfect this way.” He murmured and traced along it with his lips. “Please never get one on your other arm.”_

_Marco’s last lucid thought was getting his appointment at the parlour cancelled before he lost it. He didn’t have a problem down in his pants that time._

 

* * *

 

 

They get home late at night, but after his short slumber on the bus, Mario feels full of energy. Marco can hardly step over the threshold of their house when Mario slams the front door and attacks his lips, pulling him down with a hand fisted in his shirt. They stumble into the bedroom and Marco throws his arms around Mario’s neck whilst Mario holds him close with one, grips his ass with the other.

“You gonna get punished tonight.” Mario whispers after they fell onto the bed.

“What? Why?”

He chuckles at Marco’s confused, maybe a bit frightened questions and hoarse voice.

“Lewy.” That’s all Mario says before tearing Marco’s shirt in half. He tosses aside the ruined garment and reaches into the bedside table, pulls out a bright yellow one.

“Mario…” Marco sits up a little, eyes the shirt suspiciously. “Is that your jersey?”

“Yep.”

Marco gives him a questioning look and Mario laughs as he pulls the clothing over his boyfriend’s head. “And you gonna wear it.”

That was a long-time dream of his, getting fucked by Marco in a jersey that doesn’t have identic numbers on its back, has _not 11_ , but 10 printed on it. Marco is still a little dumbfounded, having no idea what his punishment will be and Mario is in no rush to reassure him.

He leans down and starts sucking hickeys and leaving bitemarks in places where he knows his teammates will see them, but only on Marco’s right side. Then he moves up slightly, swats away Marco’s hands that try to take hold of his and entwine their fingers, and he licks the outer shell of Marco’s left ear, nips at it and savours the noises that it gets from the beautiful body panting under him.

“Sunny, please…”

Mario giggles when Marco realises that he won’t get any pleasure from symmetry this night. He kisses Marco before he can form protests and the delight can’t be compared to anything when he bites into Marco’s lower lip and the upper quivers against his own.

 

* * *

 

 

Marco knows that Mario gets off from the power he has over him. Everybody thinks he’s the poor, little cutie who is at the mercy of his dominant boyfriend, but oh, they are so far from the truth. In fact, it’s Marco who’s kept on a short lead and the saddest thing is that he doesn’t even mind when Mario bosses around.

_They told their teammates not long before they moved in together. Most of them found it hilarious and started bets about who tops between them, earning glares from Mario when nearly all of them guessed right. Sadly, some of their old friends didn’t take it as well as their team, and Mario was distracted for days, not even reacting when Marco ‘messed up’ his hair and made it totally symmetric. His usual cheerful self came back when their things arrived at the house, their house, and their new life started._

_Auba offered his help with the furniture and stuff and Marco gladly accepted it, having no idea that time about Mario’s possessiveness. He had a great afternoon, sharing anecdotes with his friend and stealing glances at his shirtless Mario. That was it, until Auba decided to clap a hand on his shoulder and then left it on the back of Marco’s neck. For the rest of the day, Mario didn’t say a word to him and just before Marco would run crazy, he offered a truce. That was the best blowjob Marco had received in his life and not for the first time, he had to learn how moody his Sunny could be._

 

This is his way of dealing with anger, Marco thinks when he lies on his back, trying to catch his breath. He should have gotten used to it after three years of living together, but he finds it impossible. Mario gives his collarbone one last bite before strolling out of the bedroom, leaving Marco alone to die on his own from exhaustion. The sounds of the water splashing can be heard as he takes a shower and Marco would join him if he had the slightest bit of energy. As it is, he wipes himself off with what he finds - the shreds of his shirt – and observes the marks Mario left.

There are bites and hickeys and bruises from fingertips, and of course all of them are only on one side, just for him to remember that his body is more of Mario’s property than his own. He smiles when he spots a few faint red lines along his upper arms that Mario left when he was totally out of control and he accidentally made those scratches parallel.

Mario comes back, wet and flushed, when Marco is looking for the second pillow.

“It’s under the bed.” Mario says and collapses on the mattress unceremoniously.

“Why?” Marco asks with a tad bit of annoyance, picking up the item and arranging it with his own until the two sides of the bed are similar.

“I don’t need it, I have my personal pillow.” Mario chirps happily and Marco snorts, sliding under the duvet.

He waits one second, two, then Mario starts shifting and squirming, doesn’t stop moving until Marco wraps an arm around him and let him lay his head onto his chest.

“Your skin is so white.” Mario mumbles and plays with Marco’s fingers, his tanned hand is a sharp contrast against Marco’s.

“You didn’t get your goodnight kiss.” Marco presses their lips together and tries to decide whether these or the morning kisses are better. They part and Mario sighs, nuzzles into his chest.

 “I love you, Marco.” He murmurs and falls asleep not long after.

Marco’s heart beats a funny rhythm against his ribcage, threatening to burst out through his left side, and he knows that there will be a small pond of drool on the right half of his pyjama shirt.

But oh, well. There’s such asymmetry that Marco can’t _not_ love.

 

 

 

**Author's Note:**

> Please tell me what you think. :)


End file.
